


Uncensored

by rowofstars



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-30
Updated: 2009-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things never change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [](http://momdaegmorgan.livejournal.com/profile)[momdaegmorgan](http://momdaegmorgan.livejournal.com/) who planted the smut!bunny seed with her reply to my comment on [Voyeur, Interrupted](http://community.livejournal.com/shake_n_shiver/40865.html). The biggest thanks to [](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/profile)[anepidemic](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/) for removing my fear of posting this and for giving me a title idea and another naughty idea.

The Doctor leans back against the coral pillar and stares up into the blue glow of the time rotor. Feeling the gentle hum of the Tardis in his mind, he closes his eyes in an attempt to relax. The shift in his relationship with Rose from friends to lovers is still new and the universe just has to go and derail everything with Daleks and regeneration. He suspects the very Sycorax Christmas didn’t help either.

His mind buzzes with the leftover energy of his latest regeneration. Ten bodies to date and this one feels the strangest by far. He has hair again, thank Rassilon, and _great_ hair at that. His daft old face with big ears and nose is gone and while that fact pleases him, he can’t help but wonder if Rose is disappointed.

The decision to take her to New Earth was an easy one. He needed to show her that human life much like his life, went on and on despite their home planet being destroyed. Of course none of their adventures are ever complete without someone doing something naughty and the two of them putting a stop to it.

He pushes off the pillar and starts pacing around the console, remembering Rose’s smile when they landed and how she had said she loved traveling with him. He wonders if she only loves the traveling and if that’s all there is now. He thinks about Lady Cassandra inhabiting Rose’s body and rooting around in her mind. That crazy woman just jumped in, took over and worse yet she’d snogged him silly right in the middle of the hospital. Of course he only minded a bit later when he learned it wasn’t really Rose in control.

He tries to tell himself the kiss only happened because Rose wanted it to but he isn’t sure he really believes that. The whole incident makes him ache to kiss her again, to feel her lips and see how this body responds to her touch. He wants to spend hours experimenting with the sensations new skin offers. This body is so much more tactile and sensitive making the universe feel a bit more vibrant. He isn’t sure how Rose feels about him anymore and it makes him wonder if she has come along out of obligation, curiosity or because she really does want to be with him.

He hopes it’s the latter because it feels much harder to hold back his baser instincts in this form.

Turning abruptly in mid-pace he walks quickly to the jump seat, shedding his suit jacket on the way. He lays the jacket on the seat, flopping down beside it. Tugging on his tie he pulls it loose and flicks open the top button of his dress shirt. He looks around the room for the hundredth time, hoping he will find something new and different to distract him. His fingers tap out a nervous rhythm on his knees and he knows his mind will not settle so easily. He has to find Rose and talk to her.

The only problem is that he is too wound up and she’s likely asleep. She excused herself to her room as soon as they returned to the Tardis, saying she was tired and had a bit of a headache from the ordeal with Cassandra. He doesn’t want to disturb her if she is sleeping but he can’t quiet the sudden need to see her.

Springing up from the captain’s chair he launches himself at the console screen. He pushes two buttons and flips a small toggle switch but the screen stays blank. He frowns and smacks the side of the monitor with his palm. The Tardis lights dim a bit and an amused but chastising tone passes through his mind. He rolls his eyes at the tall, arched ceiling.

“Oi! I’m just going to have a peek!”

He realizes that makes him sound a bit like a dirty old peeping tom and sighs. “I just need – I need to see her.”

The screen blinks to life and an image of Rose’s room appears. The lights are off as he expected and though it’s a bit hard to make out anything, the Doctor can see one thing very clearly.

Rose Tyler’s bed is empty.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He frowns as he wonders where Rose could be. Forcefully jabbing his index finger at another button, the screen shifts to a view of the kitchen. He thinks perhaps, unable to sleep, she has wandered off to make herself some tea, but the room is empty. Pushing two more buttons changes the monitor to the library. Rose is fond of sitting in front of its massive fireplace when she feels out of sorts but this time there is no blonde companion to be seen. He cycles through four more buttons and four more likely locations for his lost Rose without success.

Exhaling in frustration, he shoots a look up to the ceiling again.

“Oh come on,” he says, bowing his head and staring at his shoes for a moment before returning his gaze to the glowing expanse of arched coral. “Please?”

The screen goes black immediately and he gets the distinct impression his ship is not happy with his request. He swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut at the thoughts running through his head. Maybe Rose has asked the Tardis to hide her. Maybe she doesn’t want to be found or for him to find her. He rubs a hand over his face and turns away from the console.

Taking pity on him, the monitor comes back to life. The Doctor’s head snaps back to the screen but he is unsure what he should be seeing. The screen is too blurry to make out anything. After fetching his glasses from his discarded jacket, he realizes that it isn’t blurry at all but…foggy. Leaning in, he squints and wrinkles his face in confusion.

A moment later he senses the Tardis retreating from his mind, leaving him alone as it becomes obvious that he isn’t looking at fog but steam. Steam from what must be a very hot shower.

Standing upright, he slowly takes a step away from the image of a very naked and very wet Rose Tyler.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It takes him a full minute of unabashed, wide-eyed staring to come to terms with the vision in front of him. He has a full view of Rose through the glass doors of the large shower. She stands in the spray of water with her head thrown back and eyes closed, running her hands from her forehead over and down through the ends of her hair squeezing out the soapy water.

When the suds subside, she turns and adjusts the water temperature. One of the best things about life on a Tardis is a never ending supply of the hottest water you can stand and he knows from experience Rose likes hers very hot. The memory of how he gained that knowledge arouses him.

He pulls the screen forward as he watches, tilting it so he has the best viewing angle. The proper Time Lord in him knows he shouldn’t be doing this, knows he should switch off the monitor and march off to his own bathroom for a very cold shower, admonishing his sins all the way, but he can’t take his eyes off her.

Rose leans forward into the water, placing her right hand on the wall in front of her and dipping her head. The shower pounds on the back of her neck. Pulling her wet hair off to the side, she rubs at the muscles of her neck and shoulders with her free hand. He knows she was tense earlier and wishes he was there behind her, easing the knots free. His old hands were strong and calloused from war, not at all appropriate for massaging the slender flesh of Rose Tyler, though she never objected. But these new hands and fingers are softer and itching to touch and caress.

He watches as the water cascades over her upper body, running down her back where it breaks into smaller droplets trickling over the swell of her bum. It’s a path he has followed more than once with his hands and lips. And then again with his tongue.

Rose’s free hand stops its ministrations and slips down the side of her body, skimming over the contours of her breast and hip. The Doctor tries to take another step back from the console screen, without looking away, but his legs collide with the edge of the jump seat and he falls ungracefully into a sitting position. He is suddenly aware of how hard he is and how uncomfortable these new trousers have become. He makes a move to adjust himself and relieve a bit of the discomfort but halts as the scene before him moves to a new level.

Rose rises up and sets the shower head at a slight angle before leaning back against the wall. He can see all of her now, watching intently as her hands and fingers stroke from the soft underside of her breasts down and around her hips and back up again. Closing her eyes, she shifts her legs apart and a little bit forward, rubbing the inside of her thighs. He tenses for an instant just as her fingers brush the crease where hips meet thighs, thumbs passing over the soft curls in the middle.  
  
Though she doesn’t know it, she is teasing him as much as herself. The partially fogged glass and puffs of steam frame her body like an erotic masterpiece. He strokes himself over the fabric of his trousers and slouches a bit in the seat, trying not to think about how inappropriate he must look or how wrong this all is. He focuses instead on Rose, biting back a moan as her hands draw a path back up her body.

She squeezes her breasts, lifting them slightly and then letting them fall in her hands, rubbing her palms over her nipples. The spray of the water pelts her upper body as manicured nails trace circles around her areola. Closer and closer they wind and this time he can’t prevent the noise that escapes his lips when she pinches her nipples between thumb and index finger, tugging and rolling them. She bites down on her lower lip, repeating the torturous action again.

He can hear the sounds she makes so clearly in his head. He can taste her skin on his tongue and the feel of the pebbled flesh as he rolls it in his teeth. He pushes the heel of his hand hard against his erection, hips lifting into the pressure of their own accord. His trousers have become painfully tight and he swears in relief when his fingers finally manage to pop the top button open and drag the zipper down. Bare underneath, he takes himself in hand for the first time in this body.

His other hand clenches on the leather of the seat, frustrated he cannot touch his Rose. The persistent voice in the back of his mind urges him to stop this madness but he remains transfixed on the screen. He remembers how the hands of his former self used to follow the same pattern over her body.

The same pattern.

_Fuck._

Somehow he knows she’s thinking about…him, imagining it’s him there with her, touching her and bringing her pleasure. But if it’s the old him or the new him he can’t be sure. For now he’ll let himself believe that it doesn’t matter. If this incarnation never becomes anything more than a best mate to her, he’ll have to make do with these torrid images and his own hand.

One of her hands remains at her breast, alternating between soft, swirling caresses and the sharp, rough nips the mouth of a lover might make. The other trails the edge of her nails down her flat stomach, the water separating and flowing around her fingers before they dip into her slick folds. She teases first with one finger, then two. He can’t see exactly what those clever fingers are doing but his memory is more than willing to supply the details.

With a firm grip on his hard cock he strokes in time with the glide of her fingers. Down lightly over her clit and inside just enough to make her buck her hips forward and her eyelids flutter open and close. Then her fingers pull out again, dragging the moisture up to circle and torment her tender flesh.

He can tell with the ease and speed at which her naughty digits move that she’s been aroused for a while. She needs her release to come quickly now. He would make her wait, make her beg for it until she submitted or took matters into her own hands. And if she did, then he would watch, just like now.

The hand that was at her breast now rakes nails up and down her thighs leaving thin red lines. He swallows hard at the sharp contrasting colors. The ivory tile walls of the shower highlight the blush of her arousal which is made even more pronounced by the scalding water. Her whole body is a luscious pink.

 _Pink and yellow. Pink and yellow and tight and wet and so fucking perfect,_ he thinks, squeezing hard at the base of his shaft on the down stroke. He knows he won’t last long at this rate and judging by the rapid increase in her breathing she is close too.

She slides down the wall a bit and her legs spread further to move both hands between her legs. Spreading herself open with the one and stroking in and out of her throbbing sex with two fingers of the other. She plunges the digits in as far as she can before withdrawing to press hard on her clit.

In his mind he tells her, begs her, to come for him. He knows her orgasm is upon her when she throws her head back against the tile wall and squeezes her eyes shut, lips falling open in a deep moan. He stares at her mouth opening and closing as she gasps for breath through the waves of pleasure course through her body.

Then her lips form an unmistakable name. He emits a low groan, running his thumb over the thick head of his cock. His balls tighten and he can feel his own orgasm so close to the surface.

Her fingers pause for a moment as her body comes down from its high before resuming a light, teasing massage. He knows she likes to hold herself in the moment as long as possible.

He fixates on the vision of Rose saying his name, imagining all the ways he’s heard it fall from her lips. His hand pulses around his shaft, wishing he could be inside her again as she clenches tight around him. He rubs and strokes himself faster, willing his body towards release, but his mind can’t stop the questions bubbling to the surface. Beads of sweat break out on his forehead and he pulls at the buttons on his shirt with his free hand, popping off a few and hearing them skitter across and through the floor grates. His hearts pound in his chest. He bites his lip in frustration, so impossibly hard and so close but unable to quiet the doubts long enough to find satisfaction.

His eyes drift back to the monitor hoping to see something that pushes him over the edge but the shower is empty and the light is switched off. He slams his fist on the leather of the seat beside him and shouts his irritation to an empty room. Pinching his eyes shut, he wants to scream or cry or anything to calm the ache. Guilt churns inside him. He watched Rose touching herself. He’s nothing but a perverted 900 year old voyeur.

A moment passes where all he can hear is the sound of his own breathing until he senses a presence. Assuming it’s the Tardis drifting back he opens his eyes and blinks, awaiting the censure that is surely coming. But it isn’t his faithful ship’s consciousness returned that alerts him. He blinks again and is stunned to find Rose standing in front of him.

She’s still wet from the shower, her hair pulled up in one of those giant claw-like clips. A few strands hang loose and drops of water creep down them, falling free at the ends to drop onto her body. She’s wrapped in one of the many soft white towels the ship is fond of providing but this is not one of the usual large, fluffy ones that could wind around her twice. This bit of fabric appears to barely encircle her torso once and is pulled tight across her chest with the end tucked in between her breasts. The edge falls just to the top of her thighs and the fold where the two ends meet splits open just so, taunting him with flashes of skin with each movement of her legs.

That towel is practically scandalous.

That towel is daring him.

He wants to _be_ that towel.

He wants to be between her pale, soft breasts. He wants to be wrapped around her, pulling her close and clinging to her because she is his lifeline. He needs to feel her skin against his and smell the scent of her desire.

It suddenly occurs to him that he is sitting on the jump seat in the console room with his trousers undone, shirt half open and erection in hand. He groans silently as she glances to the side, seeing the screen with a perfect view of her formerly private bathroom and shower. Their eyes catch briefly but he looks away, unable to bear the contempt he knows must be there.

He makes a futile attempt to cover himself with his hands, aware that now would be the time to try to say something. He should apologize or collect himself and try to explain.

No, he should run.

“Doctor?” Rose asks. She sounds surprised, or maybe confused, he isn’t sure which. It’s not quite the anger he expected though.

Returning his eyes to her face, he is surprised to find her eyes dark and the hint of a smirk in her mouth. She moves to stand between his legs, looking down at him through heavy eyelids. Her eyes catch a quick peek at his lap. She sees his hands feeble attempt to hide himself and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Rose I can explain -” he begins but she cuts him off with a single finger to his lips. He can still smell her arousal on that finger and stifles a groan.

“So,” she says, “you get a new body, new face, new clothes, and a few new quirks, but some things never change do they?”

His brow furrows in confusion.

She removes her finger from his lips and in one smooth motion pulls the corner of the towel free from between her breasts, letting it fall to the floor. She sinks to her knees in front of him, disregarding the harsh metal of the grating as she seeks the object of her desire. She takes his wrists and pulls his hands away, baring him to her gaze. She lets go of his wrists but his hands stay in place as she lays her warm hand over his and the hardness it grasps, rewarded with another low sound from within him.

She takes over his movements. Leaning forward she breathes soft, hot puffs of air over him. Her tongue dances along the edge of her teeth, so deliciously close to where he so desperately needs it to be.

With her lips poised over the tip of his cock she looks up at him and whispers, “You still like to watch.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always been for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/profile)[anepidemic](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/) for fixing and approving the hotness. I needed to write this because as my my beta extraordinaire pointed out, the D was left hanging at the end of the last one. It's sort of necessary to read that part first since this picks up where it left off.

He barely has time to process what that means. Rose knows he was watching and she sounds almost smug about the show she gave him. He’s always looking, watching her when he doesn’t think she can tell. Her soft fingertips graze up and down his hard length, relentlessly teasing. Hands crushing the seat on either side of his thighs, he closes his eyes to the sensation of her delicate hand.

“Rose,” he whispers. Her name falls from his lips like a plea for mercy.

Then in one sudden and swift motion, she licks the underside of his cock. Her tongue presses firmly against the cool velvety skin, feeling the vein pulse with the beats of his twin hearts. The Doctor’s eyes go wide as she licks lightly at the thick head, tasting and savoring the flavor of his new body. Her left hand wraps around the base of his shaft while her lips begin a slow, steady slide downward to take as much of him as she can at once. He feels her throat and tongue flex as her mouth adjusts to his size.

She establishes a slow rhythm, hollowing her cheeks and following the path of her mouth with her hand, letting them work in tandem. He has to force his eyes to stay open and focused, watching her head bob up and down. He can feel warm air ghosting over his skin when she breathes through her nose.

The clip that was holding her hair up begins to loosen and it starts to fall around her face. He gently pulls the clip free and drops it to the floor. His hands move to her head, fingers threading in her cool, damp hair, holding it up away from her face.

Her hand releases his shaft and moves to cup his balls, rolling them against her smooth, warm palm. A hiss passes his lips and his head lolls back against the seat. She’s moving faster now, pushing her lips tight together and sucking him hard as she pulls up, swirling her tongue around the head the way his other body liked so well. 

Apparently it still does as his hands tighten in her hair, pulling against her scalp, but not enough to hurt. She moans around him and he swears he can feel it reverberate through him all the way to his toes.

He watches his cock slip in and out between her lips, her hand still stroking softly in time. Letting his eyes trail over what he can see of her naked body, he follows the curve of her shoulder down her arm, nestled against her breast, until he finds her other hand.

Her fingers slide between her legs, dipping in and out of her folds and spreading the moisture over her clit. Still primed from her earlier activities in the shower, she whimpers at how sensitive her body is.

He feels the sound she makes rather than hears it. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, pushing his cock deeper in her mouth. She gags for a second and pulls back, lavishing attention on the tip where there is more for her to taste and lick while she catches her breath.

“S-sorry,” he manages. He doesn’t have a handle on this body yet, it’s still too new and demanding.

“It’s okay,” she replies, her voice is barely over a whisper, hot breath taunting his flesh. Pulling her hand free from her own body, she uses both hands on him, stroking and smearing her own moisture over his whole length. 

She licks him firm and hard, relishing the flavor of her and him mixed together. She smirks when his hips buck again. “Want you to. Want you to cum for me.”

It’s all he needs to hear as her mouth slides down his cock again. Her tongue presses solidly against him but her lips are looser, her jaw more lax. He thrusts once, experimentally, and receives an encouraging moan. He tries again and again until his eyes close and he is barely able to control how far he thrusts. Her fingers are back working between her thighs, faster than before, urging towards her release. 

It’s hard for him to imagine that this is really happening, that she wants and accepts this new him. And then he feels it, coiling in his belly and making his whole body tense. He forces his eyes open. He’s fucking Rose Tyler’s gorgeous mouth while she gets herself off and it’s too much. He thrusts one last time and then shouts his orgasm, twitching and pulsing inside her mouth. When she swallows, he feels her throat flex and groans.

She takes everything he has to give then lets his softening member fall free with a pop. Her head rests on his thigh as she focuses back on her own climax. She’s ready and her body is right on the edge but she’s getting tired. All the running, the cat nuns and Cassandra hiding in her mind have taken a toll. She feels the Doctor lean over her, pushing her back. She bends backwards a bit and he pulls on her free arm. She lets him pull her up into his lap, straddling his thighs.

He can see sleepiness in her dark eyes but also want, desire and need. Sliding a hand up to her neck he pulls her down for a kiss. Her lips are swollen and soft against his and he can taste himself on her lips. His tongue slides against her lips and meets no resistance as it dips in her mouth.

One finger slips between her open legs, feeling how wet and aroused she is, how she must have been since stepping into the shower. He adds a second digit and pushes them as far as he can inside her. Pulling back from the kiss, she moans against his mouth and he starts to move his hand.

In and out, two fingers and then a third, he moves his fingers in a hard, steady rhythm. Rose falls against him, head on his shoulder, mouth open and gasping at his neck. Her clit rubs against his palm as she pushes down, grinding against his hand.

“Please,” she gasps. “So close – please – more.”

He imagines how she would feel riding his hard cock instead of just his hand, her tight warmth surrounding him. _Next time_ , he tells himself, if there is a next time. And if there is he will do this properly, leave his marks on her and make her scream his name so that he knows when she’s alone and touching herself it’s him she’s fantasizing about, only him.

When he pulls his fingers out, she whimpers in protest until his thumb and finger take hold of the sensitive nub. The pad of his thumb rubs in small circles and when he feels her tense and push her body flush against him, he knows this is it. He gently pinches the bundle of nerves between thumb and finger, and she exclaims as her orgasm hits. Her juices coat his hand and she sags boneless in his lap. His arms come around her, holding her to him until she comes down and her breathing evens out.

She remains quiet and bit of guilt starts to settle in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have watched, shouldn’t have invaded her privacy and he feels even more like he doesn’t deserve her. She shivers just then and he picks up his suit jacket, still draped over the seat next to him, and lays it around her shoulders.

He needs to apologize to her. “Rose, I - .”

“Don’t,” she interrupts. She lifts her head and sits back on his legs, looking him in the eyes.

He sees worry and a bit of fear in those brown orbs.

“Don’t say you’re sorry. Please don’t say you’re sorry this happened,” she begs. Reaching up, she lays a hand on his cheek, her thumb caressing softly.

“Oh Rose, I’m not sorry this happened. I’m sorry that I – that I watched that I invaded your privacy like that. It was wrong.” He swallows hard, bracing himself for her reaction.

He doesn’t expect the smirking smile that creeps onto her face or the low rumble of laughter that escapes. She leans into him, her hand sliding around and tangling in the hair at the back of his head.

“I did it for you, Doctor.” She pauses to suck his earlobe between her lips and scrape it lightly with her teeth. “I want you to watch.”


End file.
